It Was the Age of Foolishness
by emmalecter
Summary: Mycroft wasn't born as the Iceman and Sherlock isn't a sociopath. Mycroft finds himself in situations he couldn't possibly have been prepared to. He's on a mission. Besides, sentiment is for fools. Sherlock is left alone his hometown, bored and slightly depressed. Luckily he's soon introduced to one Jim Moriarty, who certainly isn't boring.


CHAPTER 1 "Presume Nothing"

Siger Holmes may not be as bright as his wife or sons, but it would be disgraceful to think that makes him idiotic. Being incomparable to such greatness hardly means one standing next to said greatness is nothing in comparison with average people. Head of the Holmes family excelled in other areas of intelligence. For example, when sitting in dinner table he could tell there was something wrong in the way his elder son kept glancing his brother.

Sherlock didn't seem to notice, however. Siger felt compelled to do something, not liking the atmosphere in the slightest bit, so he opened his mouth. "I'm afraid we haven't discussed the true reason behind this little summer vacation of yours." He said it in a very calm manner, but the words made the youngest concentrate his whole attention to his father. Holmeses were quiet, too quiet, until reacting with so much as blinking his eyes, Mycroft responded: "I'm sorry, but I failed to catch the meaning of those words." His face was expressionless.

At this Sherlock tensed a bit. Siger sighed. "You know very well what I mean. And what's going on with you and your brother?" The eldest Holmes preferred not to use their names if it could be avoided.

"As it is, I'm nineteen and perfectly capable to choose how to spend my time. There's absolutely no need to be concerned, and to state the obvious once again, there's really nothing you could do to prevent my future actions. Of course, me spending whole summer in France is business, as you would call it. For the sake of your security, I waited the last moment to reveal the truth behind my vacation."

Siger raised his eyebrows for the last bit, but let it be. Sherlock's face was blank but his blue eyes were stormy.

"To be more specific, I am more than qualified for various positions in this country... To make the final decision, I need to gather enough information."

For Siger, this all sounded reasonable, but then again, he didn't know the details.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make a call ." With one last look to his baby brother Mycroft sat up and left.

"Are you sure you've got everything with you?"

Irritated, Mycroft turned to face his mother and said: "I'd rather forget something than have you asking questions in every second or so. As enjoyable as it is to hear you being worried of my well-being, I would gladly have a moment of my own."

He didn't like to use that particular tone with mother, but to be completely honest, he was a bit nervous and having her hovering around didn't help at all.

"As you like. However, I'll have Mrs. Hudson serve tea before you leave."

Sighing internally, he was just about to turn and tell her that tea wasn't a necessity, when he heard her go away. Frowning, he spend half a second wondering whether mother had sensed his foul mood. Fortunately Violet Holmes wasn't known for her amazing abilities to read one's feelings, so Mycroft just let her go without a word. Maybe tea would be acceptable start for his trip out of Britain after all.

~

Sherlock was already sipping his tea when Mycroft finally made it to the table. Pouring tea to himself big brother asked if everything was okay. "Oh yes, everything's just wonderful" Sherlock said venomously. Taken aback but not showing it, Mycroft tried to understand what pained him so much. Deducing him carefully (while eating Mrs. Hudson's delicious cupcakes and Sherlock not quite meeting his eyes) the realisation flashed to his mind. "Does it bother you that I'm leaving?" he asked.

Sherlock was uncharacteristically quiet. Until...

"Why Mycroft? Why are you doing this to me? To leave for a short amount of time, that's nothing, but to leave me for months with these thickheaded idiots – that's torture!" There was grief in his voice, combined with anger and something barely audible. Sentiment.

Mycroft Holmes knew caring was not an advantage, mummy Holmes had taken care of it. Still, he couldn't help but try to reassure his brother. "It isn't like I'm going to enjoy it. Imagine me, among those goldfish for months! It'll be a relief to be home at last."

Sherlock doubted every word. All he could see was that Mycroft was going to abandon him. Silently, he got up and left with a sense of betrayal nagging in his brain.

To be honest, Mycroft was kind of lost with this sudden outburst. Sherly so rarely displayed any emotion at all – talent he probably had learned over the years of being the object of bullying. Other children... they just didn't understand Holmeses. They were better alone.

Shrugging off such thoughts Mycroft finished his tea and went to prepare himself for the trip ahead. One last unfocused thought ("what if this is not a good idea") was perished when Mrs. Hudson came to knock the door and tell that his driver had come.


End file.
